


Morning Without You is a Dwindled Dawn

by noelre



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning After, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelre/pseuds/noelre
Summary: I’m glad to be alivein a world wherehis gently awakening eyesnourish the morning sun.*Jacob said nothing. Instead of words, he closed his eyes and leaned back into Maxwell’s body.





	Morning Without You is a Dwindled Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write anymore, for so many reasons. I was casually playing _Syndicate_ , when I came across sequence 8, and I was sold immediately. There are only a handful of pairs I really love in games, but this is one of them. In cases like these, I just have to write.

Sunshine created speckles on Jacob’s skin. A set of fingertips raced down his back, stirring him finally awake.

 

He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, groaned beneath his breath. His body complained, dull ache settling right in the middle of his head and various other parts. He heard London somewhere far beneath him, awake, ready to tackle the new day. Not quite in the same mind set as seemingly half the city, he buried his head deeper into the softest pillow he had ever had the pleasure to touch. The fingers continued to stroke his naked, heated skin, soothing, soft, gentle.

 

A smile curled to his lips.

 

Slowly, so very carefully, Jacob opened his eyes. At first, he saw nothing but light. Then the edges began to sharpen, spreading to the middle until he could watch the curtains sway gently in the morning breeze. He moved his toes, kneaded a little, content like a kitten sitting on its owner’s lap. The fingers stopped to the dip of his waist, right in the middle of the curve. Lips reached to his ear, soft against the lobe. A kiss, then another.

 

Jacob quivered. Something burned deep within him.

 

“Morning,” Maxwell muttered, the word raspy and hoarse from the night.

 

Jacob said nothing. Instead of words, he closed his eyes and leaned back into Maxwell’s body. Savoured the moment. He breathed deep, in through his nose, out of his mouth. It was as if his body knew exactly where to settle in the arms of Maxwell, and it did it so effortlessly like they were crafted that way from the very beginning of times.

 

It took him a while, but eventually Jacob twisted himself just far enough to look at Maxwell over his shoulder. In the morning hue, the man’s cheekbones were more carved than ever, the long scar so prominent that Jacob had the itch to feel its outlines with his own fingertips. He looked in to Maxwell’s eyes and got stuck there. Unable to look away, Jacob felt his cheeks burn, the heat spreading down to his nape with a speed more rapid than ever. He swallowed hard. Eventually, no other choice remained but to close his eyes. So, he did.

 

Maxwell’s grasp from Jacob’s waist tightened. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” A nervous chuckle escaped Jacob. He shook his head and opened his eyes. “You just woke me up, that’s all.”

 

“Ah, I see.” For a moment longer, Maxwell’s hand lingered on Jacob’s skin—then it was gone. (Jacob wished it wasn’t.) “Did you need a moment longer of your beauty sleep?”

 

Another chuckle, shuddering. “I’m gorgeous without it.”

 

“I agree.” Maxwell’s voice was honey. Melting, burning Jacob to the very core.

 

Shudder. Jacob felt the heat deepen on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. “Mm-hmm,” was all he found from his inventory of witty replies. His head was full of the sound of his thudding heart and nothing else.

 

“So…” There was a devilish and annoyingly disarming smirk on Maxwell’s mouth, one brow higher than the other. “Was yesterday your first time with a man?”

 

 _Damn_. Jacob’s eyes widened ever so slightly. For a moment he forgot to breathe, and what came out of him after that sounded pathetic, whimper-like. Whatever remnants of his dignity crumbled under Maxwell’s gaze and grin. Jacob felt his heart jump up to his throat and tighten his vocal chords. He grasped the edge of the blanket and squeezed. His knuckles formed ivory bumps.

 

Maxwell’s smirk didn’t waver as he got up, clearly unashamed of his undressed body. “Tea?”

 

“Um.” Jacob didn’t know where to look, yet his gaze kept finding Maxwell’s back again and again. He forced himself to stare down at his own hands. “Sure.”

 

From the corner of his eye he saw Maxwell get dressed and leave. Only then did he feel able to fully breathe.

 

Jacob rose to sit and buried his face into his hands. His pulse thickened, quickened, ticking down his neck, shooting towards his fingertips. _Get a grip of yourself_. He sucked in his bottom lip and stroked the age-old scar on his brow. Why, why, _why_ did Maxwell Roth out of all the people in London have such an… influence on him? He became a stuttering, blushing mess in a blink of an eye, his usual self buried somewhere deep down the Londonian sewers.

 

The night before had been… Jacob couldn’t quite find the words. Amazing? _Too mild._ Mind-blowing? He smiled against his palm. One word, and Maxwell had had him wrapped around his little finger just like that. Never had Jacob writhed like that, lips wide open in raspy moans spelling a man’s name so recklessly, hips grinding with a stutter… He had held tight on Maxwell, and Maxwell had held him.

 

A shiver ran down his spine, his cock stirring. Jacob shook the thoughts away and got up, covered his naked body with the blanket. He stepped over the lump that was his clothes (yanked off him late night by Maxwell with haste and not much with care), and stopped by the open balcony, shoulder against the frame. Jacob took a deep breath. The chilly air filled his lungs. He leaned the side of his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes, listened. He heard everything and nothing.

 

He shuddered underneath the blanket but didn’t bother to move. He moistened his lips and thought. He’d have to come up with a white lie to Evie. _Where was I? Oh, yes, sister dearest, I got fucked by a man very close to Starrick, and I_ very _much liked it. How was your night, spent it with Greenie again?_

Autumn leaves danced down from the nearby tree to the feet of a pair of Blighters settled right on the doorstep of the building. Jacob’s brows scrunched. Another patrolled a nearby roof. The rumours would kill him, would they echo in the ears of the Rooks or worse—Evie. (Simply because the lectures would be never-ending.) Still, Jacob didn’t move an inch, his toes firmly rooted on the wood of the balcony. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself and stayed put.

 

“Tea, dear.”

 

Jacob glanced over his shoulder, puckered his lips to the sight of Maxwell still dressed. With a murmured ‘thanks’ Jacob took the porcelain cup fit for the Queen, and wrapped his fingers around the hot surface. The warmth radiated to the middle of his chest. He took a sip.

 

“I hope you don’t mind that I put some honey in it.” Maxwell’s voice was sweeter than any honey put in anything, ever.

 

“It’s good, thank you.” As much as Jacob wanted to stare the still surface of the tea, he watched Maxwell instead. Maxwell gave a fleeting glance towards the Blighter-filled roof—Jacob’s eyes followed. The red-dressed devil was already gone. Jacob wore a small smile.

 

“ _So_.” Maxwell leaned his back against the free frame of the door, his cup of tea leaning against his stomach. “I think you still didn’t answer my question.”

 

Jacob cocked a brow. “And what question would that be?”

 

“Still so coy, darling.”

 

“No,” said Jacob slowly, the corners of his lips still tugged slightly higher. “I think you just know the answer already.”

 

“Do I now?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Jacob took another sip of the tea—black and scalding, yet lacking milk—and glanced at Maxwell over the edge of the cup. Whenever their eyes met, whenever he got in captivity of that piercing gaze, it was like an electric current went through him. Under that gaze, his lower stomach tightened, his lips parted. His breath turned white.

 

Maxwell moved a step closer, hand settling on Jacob’s hip. “Do you regret last night?”

 

“Oh, god, no.”

 

The answer came faster than Jacob would have wanted it to, but he didn’t bother to reel it back in. Maxwell leaned closer, and Jacob tightened his grip from the tea when the kiss came. His head buzzed white noise. Maxwell’s lips tasted warm in the chilly air, soft, awfully tender. Jacob’s toes curled beneath the blanket. Jacob parted his mouth and took in the very essence of Maxwell, flavoured with the finest black tea.

 

“Not here,” Jacob murmured and barely found the mental strength to pull away. Breathless, throbbing, he rested his forehead against Maxwell’s. “Really… not here.”

 

“The reasoning is…?”

 

“People will talk.” Did he really care about that? He couldn’t remember, not when his heart was crazy and his cock needy.

 

“Let them,” Maxwell whispered, his mouth against Jacob’s ear. So candied was his voice when he continued, “I will kill them if they do.”

 

In that fleeting moment, chill in his bones yet heat dancing on his skin, Jacob knew he was insane—should have feared the statement but was turned on instead.

 

Jacob simply forgot that he ever even held a cup of tea when he wrapped both of his arms around Maxwell’s shoulders. The cup broke into several shards, tea wetting the edge of the blanket and Jacob’s heels, but it didn’t burn as badly as his mouth did against Maxwell’s. Another crash, another puddle of tea over the woods of the balcony, and they were tangled. Jacob stumbled backwards, blanket left somewhere between the bedroom and balcony, and found himself back on the soft bed right beneath Maxwell.

 

Rolling his eyes close, Jacob gave himself the permission to simply enjoy. So long, after so many years, had he pressed this side of him deep down—he hadn’t been that good of a boy growing up, but it seemed he wasn’t any better man now, either. But damn, had he earlier known just how pleasurable this was, he would have done this sooner, explored this side of himself. With a set of kisses Maxwell continued the charting of Jacob’s skin, a journey that had begun late last night. Jacob squeezed some sheet in his fist, head thrown back, body in an arch. He bit his lower lip hard, still conscious of the noises he would surely make if he had his mouth open. The muscles in his thighs tightened, his toes wiggling.

 

One touch, one tug, was enough to craft his erection rock hard. Jacob sought one of his hands to his hair, combed it messily back, squeezed his eyes tighter. Maxwell’s weight on him was soothing, almost familiar, and he craved to have their bodies joined like this for hours without an end. Jacob craned his neck to the side as Maxwell’s grip on his cock tightened, the touches turned demanding. Sure, there had been girls in his life that had held him like this, but never, _never_ had it felt so mind-blowing, like he’d actually turn insane.

 

Jacob dared to crack his eyes open, greeted by the sight of Maxwell’s scar. He darted his tongue out and dragged it against the old wound, salty and sweet. Their eyes met—Jacob grinned. Last night his confidence had been on the floor right beside his clothes, but he was recovering. Slowly but surely. Maxwell’s devilish grin made Jacob reach his hand towards Maxwell’s groin, but Maxwell pinned his wrist against the bed.

 

With no other choice, really, Jacob relaxed and enjoyed.

 

All the blood in his body thrummed through his veins and straight to his cock, throbbing and rosy with want and need. Maxwell rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves near the head, sending chills down Jacob’s limbs. For a fleeting second Jacob forgot to control his noises, and a loud moan escaped. His eyes went wide. _Sod it_ , he thought as the next moan left his lips and didn’t care if half the London, all the Rooks and dozen Blighters would hear him.

 

“Having fun, darling?” Maxwell’s voice was thick with amusement.

 

“Shut— _ah_ —up. Stupid…” Jacob’s lower stomach tightened, and he buckled his hips slightly higher, “…question…”

 

“I knew you would like it.”

 

“Smug… _hnn_ —bastard.”

 

Jacob’s cock strained and reached towards his belly. He breathed hard through his nose, the flow of air cut every now and then with a moan. Sometimes Maxwell muffled it with a tongue-filled kiss, and other times Jacob’s sounds echoed around the bedroom. The skilful fingers were glued around his dick, and Jacob loved it, adored it, wanted more. His hips gave out a stuttered grind. He rocked his body to the rhythm set by Maxwell, fingers clawing the sheet crinkled underneath him. Jacob felt like he would lose his mind any second now—any second, any second, _damn_ , _fuck_ , it felt so good—

 

Just when he was ready to release, Maxwell tightened his grip right from the base of the swollen cock. Jacob groaned.

 

“ _Why_!”

 

“Oh, dear.” Maxwell kissed Jacob hard, and licked from the corner the saliva that dripped from Jacob’s mouth. “Because I love to see you writhe like that.”

 

Jacob’s eyes rolled in his head. He squeezed them shut and moved his hand over Maxwell’s knuckles, tried to coerce the fingers to pull and yank and tug and make him come. They didn’t budge. He was so ready to drip all over Maxwell’s hand but couldn’t. His hips shuddered an inch higher, then thrashed back down on the bed. He couldn’t stay still. Toes flexing, palms sweaty, he stared up at Maxwell.

 

“What do you want me to say, _please_?” he asked.

 

From Maxwell’s smirk Jacob knew he had gotten the right answer right on the first try.

 

“Please,” he murmured beneath his breath straight away. He needed his release, and he needed it _now_. “Please.”

 

“Here.” Maxwell took a hold of Jacob’s hand and guided it to the cock. “Let me see you do it.”

 

A hand on his own dick, Jacob didn’t have to think twice what to do. He thumbed the head, and nearly moaned but Maxwell got to his mouth first. The kiss was slick with saliva, tongues wild, his body pressed tight against Maxwell’s.

 

In the safety of his own palm (but not necessarily how he wanted it), Jacob came, ropes of cum all over his hand.

 

He melted to the bed, underneath Maxwell, head spinning and heart fluttering. He breathed hard, shuddered. After a few more lazy strokes, let go of himself. Jacob swallowed thickly and looked up at Maxwell, kissed him. Maxwell gripped his wrist, pulled his hand up for both to see, and wrapped his mouth around Jacob’s forefinger. Maxwell dragged his tongue against the girth of the finger, sucked it for a second, and then moved on to the middle one. Jacob breathed harshly through his nose. His eyes were fixed on Maxwell’s mouth and his own fingers glistening spit-slick.

 

One by one, with precision and care, Maxwell sucked Jacob’s fingers. Jacob couldn’t stop shuddering, his full focus on the man’s parted lips. When all of it was done, he kept his gaze on Maxwell. Jacob swallowed hard, and eventually forced himself to look away. He cleared his throat. The words ‘I should go’ danced on the tip of his tongue, but they didn’t exit. Instead, he moved his hand on Maxwell’s cheek and kissed him, long enough to forget everything else in the world.

 

When the kiss ended, Jacob’s cheeks glowed, yet a small smile lingered.

 

Then, finally, without a word, he sat up and swung his legs over bed, reached for his clothes.

 

“Leaving?” asked Maxwell.

 

“What can I say? I’m a busy man.” Jacob got up on his feet and pulled his pants up. He guessed that Maxwell’s eyes were on his back, but didn’t turn around to check. He rubbed the scar on his brow, and after a moment began to yank his boots on. “You know… I think I lied a bit before.”

 

“About?”

 

“About not having any regrets.” Jacob maneuvered his arms in his shirt. “I’m going to have to take London from your gang, in the end. This isn’t a great business, you and I.”

 

“You can have London.” Judging by the sounds, Maxwell shifted on the bed. “She’s all yours, darling, as long as I can have you.”

 

Jacob said nothing, simply bit his lip to stop himself from smiling so damn much. He stayed there a moment longer, felt Maxwell’s hand on his lower back. Closing his eyes, breathing in the moment, he felt so alive.

 

Eventually, he got up. He didn’t say a word, just gave one final look to Maxwell, and left the bedroom through the balcony.

 

The early October morning greeted him with full force. As he climbed up the roof and then across the tops, Jacob’s heart pounded. He felt like an idiot grinning so much, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. Wind howled in his ears, and although he was sure that thousands of Londoners were freezing, he was burning from his core. His heart leapt, skidded, danced, made few pirouettes—refused to settle. There was a pleasurable ache all over his body and thudding in his head.

 

Jacob stopped by the nearest chimney and leaned a shoulder against it. Fog rose over the vast horizon, the air tainted as far as his eyes could carry. He looked left and right, and eventually spotted a familiar figure few roofs in front of him. He was quick to find a way to his sister.

 

“Morning,” he called and settled beside Evie, hand on her shoulder.

 

“Why are you so chirpy?” Evie’s brows scrunched ever so slightly. “Where have you been? I didn’t see you last night.”

 

Jacob shrugged. “I had some business to take care of. Hungry?”

 

“Starving.”

 

“Join me for breakfast, then.”

 

Jacob shoved a hand in his pocket to check his coin situation, but instead of the small pouch his fingers came across something entirely different. Frowning, he pulled it out and stared at—he realized—a neatly folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and a second later wore an ear-splitting grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

 

_Darling, what a night!_

“What’s with the smirk?” Evie shifted closer. “What’s that?”

 

“Nothing, dear sister.” Jacob’s folding technique wasn’t as flawless as Maxwell’s, but it was enough to make it safely back to his pocket. His grin was unstoppable. “Nothing at all. Breakfast, then?”


End file.
